


Me and My Thief

by RoseByAnyOtherName (badxwolfxrising)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 19:19:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3948556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badxwolfxrising/pseuds/RoseByAnyOtherName
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of course I had to go and pick a Prydonian Academy dropout to see the universe with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Me and My Thief

**Author's Note:**

> Written for who-contest.livejournal.com's one-shot challenge #38, prompt: stolen.

I wanted to see the universe, so I stole a Time Lord and we ran away.

Well, more accurately, we dematerialized into the time vortex. It was the first time I had left Gallifrey in ages, and the ride was a bumpy one, both from my state of disuse and my Thief’s inexperience at piloting a Type 40 TARDIS. I imagined he would eventually get better at it, but over seven hundred years later my chameleon circuit is still broken, he still leaves the emergency brakes on, and he’s still using a mallet on me. And he wonders why I don’t always take him where he wants to go. One of his strays once asked him if he’d had to pass a test to fly me, and he told her that he had failed it! The mallet made a lot more sense after that. Of course I had to go and pick a Prydonian Academy dropout to see the universe with. 

Still, my Thief is preferable to the mad one who one time turned me into a paradox machine. What he lacks in ability, he makes up for with elaborate words and theatrics. For every time I get the mallet, there are a dozen more times when he’ll stroke a little part of me and whisper “sexy”. I’m not really clear on what that means exactly, but the impression that I get from him is that it’s a good thing to be “sexy”. Once upon a time, he had called himself the same thing. Me and my Thief, sometimes so alike. The strays come and go, and though some stay longer than others, they all end up leaving in the end. Some of them are clever, some of them are kind, some of them are brave, or compassionate, or loyal. But almost all of them, human. Their lives so fragile and fleeting. Hundreds of years the Thief has traveled in this way, acquiring companions here and there. Even though he knows that they always leave, every loss still breaks his hearts. I am the only one who always stays, and yet I am incapable of offering him the comfort he so desperately craves.

Sometimes, I think he can hear me. Other times, I feel disconnected from him, as though we are two buoys floating on the same raging sea. In the end though, my Thief always comes home to me. I’m going to travel with him forever.


End file.
